


In Which A Puckish Demon Terrorizes A Reluctantly Smitten Archangel

by sweetNsimple



Series: Local Archangel Domesticated By The Creator Of The Original Sin And Reluctantly Happy About It [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aziraphale and Crowley are Adam Young's Parents, Aziraphale is a demon, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Crowley does not Fall, Crowley is the archangel Raphael, Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Power Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 04:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19349596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/pseuds/sweetNsimple
Summary: “Greetings,” said the demon, smiling in a friendly manner.  “My name is –”“Is that you, Aziraphale?” Raphael asked.  “It is, isn’t it?  You were a Principality.”“Oh, drat,” said Aziraphale.  “I rather liked my new name.  I picked this one out myself, you know.  In Hell, they’ve come to call me Owly.  Can you believe it?  It lacks all imagination.”“Oh, well.”  The archangel waved a hand toward him.  “Go on with it, then.  Who might you be, Owly?”





	In Which A Puckish Demon Terrorizes A Reluctantly Smitten Archangel

"You may eat any clean bird…  But these are the ones which you shall not eat: the eagle and the vulture and the buzzard, and the red kite, the falcon, and the kite in their kinds, and every raven in its kind, and the ostrich, the owl, the sea gull, and the hawk in their kinds, the little owl, the great owl, the white owl, the pelican, the carrion vulture, the cormorant, the stork, and the heron in their kinds, and the hoopoe and the bat…  And all the teeming life with wings are unclean to you; they shall not be eaten.”  ~ Deuteronomy 14:3-21

“To the woman He said: ‘I will sharply increase your pain in childbirth; in pain you will bring forth children. You will desire your husband, and he will rule over you.” ~ Genesis 3:17

~::~

Raphael stood at the Eastern Gate, a snake coiled around his shoulders.  He had given Adam and Eve his flaming sword and watched them now make their way across the desert.  “Best of luck to you lot,” he murmured. 

There was a flap of wings as a white owl came to land next to him.  It shifted and wavered until a man-shaped demon with golden owl eyes took its place.

Raphael considered this other man-shaped cosmic being.  Shorter than Raphael, plumper as well, and white-blonde hair that might not have been hair at all as much as feathers.

“Greetings,” said the demon, smiling in a friendly manner.  “My name is –”

“Is that you, Aziraphale?” Raphael asked.  “It is, isn’t it?  You were a Principality.” 

“Oh, drat,” said Aziraphale.  “I rather liked my new name.  I picked this one out myself, you know.  In Hell, they’ve come to call me Owly.  Can you believe it?  It lacks all imagination.”

“Oh, well.”  The archangel waved a hand toward him.  “Go on with it, then.  Who might you be, Owly?”

Aziraphale pouted at him.  _Pouted_.  The adversary, a demonic force of evil, the Creator of the Original Sin – _pouting_.  “I won’t bother now.  I prefer Aziraphale to Owly, if you please.”  He sighed.  “I had a whole introduction planned.”

“My bad for messing it up.”  He took the snake from his shoulders and set it on the ground so that it could slither away and enjoy the last days of Eden before the Garden was taken over by the desert.

Aziraphale gestured to the humans already disappearing over a dune.  “I did not give them a sword.”

“Nah.  That was me.”

“ _You_?  An archangel of the Lord?  Holier than thou?”

“Couldn’t think of a reason why not to.”

“You don’t think a good reason might be that the Lord may have wanted you to not give it away to the humans She just threw out of the Garden of Eden?”

“Oh, _please_.  As if God Herself would curse a woman to have labor pains and then force them to survive in the desert just for knowing the difference between Good and Bad.”

This gave Aziraphale pause.  “You don’t seem upset that they know the difference between Good and Bad.”  Something glittered in those too-animal eyes.

“We know the difference.  I know that I’m Good and you know that you’re Bad.  God told us to love humans and respect their free will.  Part of having free will is making your own choices, Good or Bad.”

“I understand now.”  Aziraphale nodded.  “You let me into the Garden.  That rather hurts my feelings.  You see, I felt so clever when I thought I had just slipped by you and had been living here happily and undetected for near a year.” 

“Eh, well.  They had to know.”

Aziraphale, like any owl, was only capable of looking straight ahead.  He turned his entire body to pin Raphael with a searing gaze.  “You made my job very easy.”

“You’re welcome.”

“No, no, I’m afraid you don’t understand.  You _shouldn’t_ have made my job easy.  At all!  You’re an _angel_ , I’m a _demon_.  I tempt and you preach abstinence.  You are not supposed to welcome me into the Garden of Eden and then turn a blind eye while Adam and Eve get tempted out of paradise.”

“It’s not as easy as that.”

“No, it really is.  Does Heaven not have mandatory trainings for this sort of thing?  Hell does.  I cannot _begin_ to tell you how many hours I had to put in before I was allowed up here.” 

“If you _must_ know,” Raphael told him testily.  “God Herself told me to let you in.  Like I said, Adam and Eve were meant to eat the apple.”

Aziraphale gaped at him.  “So I did the _right_ thing?  This is bad.  Or, well, this is very good and that is not a good thing for me as a demon.  They’ll throw me into the deepest pit of Hell!  Or worse.”  He grimaced.  “They’ll chain me to a desk for the rest of eternity.” 

“It’s not like that, don’t worry about it.  There was that whole show with the Metatron and cursing Eve and Adam and owls.  Hell’s gonna think you did a great job.”

“Goes to show how well the Metatron understands basic biology.”  Aziraphale snipped derisively.  “Owls can’t move their eyes anyway.  If anything, he’s done them a favor by cursing them to have to twist their neck like a dangling man.  It is actually very helpful.  Here, see?”  He twisted his neck in such a way that would have terrified a human observer.

Raphael nodded.  “You can see right behind you doing that, can you?”

“I can!”

“Yeah, he’s not the best, I’ll admit.  If you’d been a snake, he’d probably curse you to crawl around.”

“But… snakes slither.  They have no legs to crawl on.”

“See?  You get me.” 

They smiled at each other.

Aziraphale cleared his throat.  He lowered his eyelashes and turned his head to the side.  He turned his head back to Raphael and there were twinkling lights in his eyes as he gazed at the archangel with something like adoration.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Raphael asked.

“I am tempting you, yes.”

“You’re trying to.”

“And I am _succeeding_.”

Raphael rolled his eyes, and rather pointedly at that.

Aziraphale, who was physically incapable of doing the same, glared at him.  “That was rude.”

“So, my sweet little tempter,” Raphael drawled, “what shall we do now?”

The sky answered him by rumbling.  Rain fell upon Earth for the first time and the archangel scowled up at the rolling clouds.

A large, white wing soon blocked his glower and protected him from the downpour.  Surprised, he raised an eyebrow at the owl-eyed demon. 

Aziraphale was not paying attention to him, of course.  He was thoughtfully pursing his lips.  “We could ponder what the Almighty is planning.  If my job was to tempt Eve and your job was to let me, then She must have something planned.”

“I’m not allowed to speculate,” Raphael admitted, though he had spent a great deal of time doing so.  “Besides, it’s beyond our understanding and incapable of being put into words,” he added, since that was true.

Aziraphale cocked his head.  “Could it be said, then, that Her plans are… ineffable?”

“Ineffable?”  Aziraphale nodded.  Raphael bobbed his head as he considered it.  “Yeah, sounds right.”  That decision made, they listened to the patter of rain on stone wall and sand.  “Now what?”

Aziraphale grinned salaciously.  “Well, the Garden of Eden _is_ still here.  I imagine I could show you pleasures untold of the carnal variety.”

“My side wouldn’t like that very much.”

“Somehow, I doubt your side would approve of anything you’ve done on Earth so far.”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”  He wondered if the demon would use that as blackmail against him.

Aziraphale smiled at him instead.  With his white teeth and pink lips and pale hair, it was a practiced guileless expression of shy Lust.  “Exactly,” he purred.  “They don’t have to know.”

“I’m going to have to pass.”

Aziraphale stuck out his bottom lip.  “Well.  In that case, I suppose we’ll just have to be bored until the humans manage to multiply.” 

~::~

In 3004 B.C., Raphael was just barely stopped himself from screaming at Head Office that they couldn’t just flood an entire region because the rest of the bloody archangels were angry with Mesopotamia.  They outnumbered him and they had not forgotten about his terrible East Gate guarding blunder a thousand years ago.  They did not believe he had purposefully let a demon into Eden, but they did believe he had been embarrassingly unobservant. 

Since then, he’d been stationed on Earth and Upper Management had come to passive aggressively blame every human failure and disaster on him. 

Really, it was whatever.  Raphael just wished that the disasters weren’t caused by the Heavenly Host themselves. 

“I’ve heard they’re going to drown everyone.” 

Raphael sighed.

“Well, not everyone.  Noah and his family are safe, aren’t they?  And they are taking seven of every clean animal and only two of every unclean animal.  Did you know that owls are considered unclean?  They’re practically setting up hundreds of species for extinction.”  Aziraphale frowned into the distance.  “MY DEAR FELLOW, THAT UNICORN IS – Ah, well, too late for them then.” 

“What do you want, tempter?” Raphael asked.

“I was curious if you would be up to another round of ‘What they don’t know won’t hurt them’.”  Aziraphale turned his head to look at the archangel and smiled in that falsely joyful way of his.

Raphael looked back.  What was truly tempting about Aziraphale was that he didn’t _look_ evil.  He looked kind and approachable and so soft to the touch.

Raphael bit his tongue.  “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, God wants to drown all of these people.”

“It’s not God.  God’s not even up there.  She went off somewhere, probably Creating again.”

“Oh, really?”  Aziraphale folded his hands over his chest and shuffled in place.  “If this is not God’s will, then whose is it?”

“Michael, Gabriel, Uriel…  Sandalphon too.” 

“So, archangels…  Including you?”

“Definitely not.”

“Hm.”  Aziraphale did that _look_ again, that obscenely flirtatious thing where he ducked his head and then looked at Raphael with dastardly twinkling eyes.  “Well, aren’t you _different_.  A little too different for Heaven, don’t you think so?”

“What do you _want_ , tempter?”

Aziraphale pouted.  “You’re no fun.”  He sighed and the motion rolled his shoulders and parted his pink lips and completely distracted Raphael who was experiencing the messy setbacks of being in a male human body.  “So, an order has come from _somewhere_ that the sinful people of Mesopotamia must drown.  If that is the case, then it is my unholy duty to save lives.”

“Why are you telling me this?  You know if I see a wile, I’m supposed to thwart it.”

Aziraphale’s smile became unnervingly wide.  “But you’re not going to.”

Suddenly, Raphael understood.  “You’re testing me.”

“It’s just so odd…  Really, you are unique.  Do you know why I Fell, archangel Raphael?”

“Because you sided with Lucifer and lost in the Revolution?”

Aziraphale shook his head.  “I Fell because I believed that there shouldn’t have been a Revolution at all.  I was the one who said, _why can’t we all get along?_ And that made Uriel _very_ angry, so she essentially threw me into Hell with all of Satan’s followers.  That goes to show that she, at least, is not capable of getting along.  And yet, here you are, and it feels as if you _can_ get along, and that makes me furious.”

“You look strangely happy.”

“Oh, look.”  Aziraphale held his palm flat to the sky.  “It’s beginning to rain.  Goodbye, Raphael.  Enjoy Noah’s Ark.  Let me know how your nice little vacation is when the flood waters recede and leave behind the bloated bodies of all the humans and beasts that could not be saved.” 

Raphael clenched his jaw and looked away.

“Yes.”  Aziraphale placed his hand over the side of Raphael’s face and touched him familiarly.  “Yes, that is exactly what I thought.”

And then the demon was gone.

Off to save as many Damned-to-drown lives as he could. 

Raphael did not try to stop him.

~::~

It was 22 A.D. and Raphael stood powerless as Jesus was nailed to the cross. 

“I hear he told people to be kind to one another,” Aziraphale said next to his ear.  “Now _this_ is relatable.” 

“Are you going to stop them?” Raphael asked.  “It’s your unholy duty to thwart Heaven’s plans.”

“No.  No, I am not here to stop them.  I have been told not to intervene.”

Raphael did not bother to hide his disappointment.  “At least I managed to show him all the kingdoms of the world,” the archangel said.  It was a little comfort.

“ _Kind_ of you,” Aziraphale crooned.  “What a good angel you are.”  He cocked his head to look at Raphael.  “You’re crying.  For him?”

Raphael let the tears fall.  “I’m a healer, tempter.  I am the first healer of all Creation.  And yet, I have to stand _here_ and watch them torture this young man who just wanted peace.”

“Hm,” was what Aziraphale said.  “I am getting the strangest sense of déjà vu.”  He did not explain and Raphael did not want an explanation.  Instead, he turned toward Jesus and snapped his fingers.

The carpenter’s prayers quieted as he fell asleep, escaping untold agony and creeping death.

Raphael gawked at the demon.

“Oh…  Don’t look at me that way.”  Aziraphale scowled.  “It’s not like he’ll ever wake up again.”

“Actually,” Raphael began, about to explain Jesus’s resurrection to him.  He stopped himself.  “Thank you,” he said instead.  “That was kind of you.”

The demon gave him a dangerously sour look.  “My dear boy, do recall that I am a _demon_.  I do not commit acts of kindness, that is for your lot.  I merely got exhausted of listening to him pray for God to forgive everyone’s sins.” 

“Of course.  Whatever was I thinking?”

Aziraphale muttered something beneath his breath that might have been, “you Holy ponce” or something similar.

~::~

In 41 A.D., Raphael was accosted by the demon Aziraphale in a Roman pub. 

“Still an archangel?” Aziraphale asked.

Raphael glared at him.  “Still an archangel?  What kind of question is that?  What would I be?”

“A demon, of course.”

“Yes, tempter, I’m still an archangel.”

“Pity.”  Aziraphale took the seat next to him.  He shed his tinted glasses and turned those golden eyes on Raphael.  “I will be in Rome for a few weeks, tempting and such.  Perhaps you would care to keep me company?”  He did The Look.  His eyes twinkled flirtingly.

Raphael pointedly glanced away.

Aziraphale pouted.  “Or, perhaps,” he tried a different tactic.  “You would like to go to Patronus’s new restaurant with me.  I’ve heard he does _amazing_ things with oysters.”

“Is this another setup?  Aren’t oysters supposed to be aphrodisiacs for humans?”

“Of course.”

“Are you trying to trick me into a den of inequity?” 

Aziraphale merely smiled.  “You are the archangel Raphael.  Are you telling me that you can be tricked into entering a den of inequity unknowingly?” 

“’Course not.”

“Then it’s not a trick.  It is a just two friends enjoying oysters in Rome.”

“You won’t seduce me, you have to know that.”

“Not right now.  Not yet.”  Aziraphale waved them forward.  “Shall we?”

Raphael shrugged.  “Sure.  Why the Heaven not.”

~::~

“Oh, for _Heaven’s_ sake,” Raphael hissed.  It was 537 A.D. and he was near the Kingdom of Wessex.  He had been on his way to find the fabled Black Knight when he had been caught, by all things, a _witch_.  A clever witch at that.  “For the last time, I am not a demon and I will not give you untold power.” 

“Do not lie to _me_ ,” said the beautiful maiden.  “I can see that you are not human.  I shall harness your power and never again shall I be weak.” 

The problem with the situation he was in was that she had planned this _well_.  He wasn’t sure what learning she had had, but it was a proper binding circle he had walked into.  And he had, foolishly, walked into it.  He had heard the maiden weeping and had gone to comfort her. 

Of course, it was a trap.

“Master Raphael?” his squire called.  The poor lad sounded shaken up – probably by the idea that Raphael was some sort of creature that could be trapped in a binding circle to begin with.

The archangel groaned and paced the perimeters of his cage.  “It will be alright, Wesley.” 

“It will not be,” said the maiden.  She pulled a dagger from her wide sleeves.  “I _detest_ men!”

“ _Of course_ you do,” crooned a familiar voice. 

Raphael twisted on his heel to see for himself.

Wesley had been frozen in time and place, wide-eyed and paled.  Next to him, Aziraphale smiled and wiggled excitedly in place.  “Hello, my fair lady.”  He bowed low at the waist.  “I am sorry to say that you cannot keep my friend imprisoned.  I would be very lonely without him.  However, perhaps we could strike a deal?”

“I will make no deal with a man!”

Aziraphale’s image wavered and then became that of a buxom lass.  “Is this better?  Please, don’t look so surprised.  My friend and I are not human.  We are not constrained by gender.”

The maiden faltered.  “Aye, that…  That is better.”  Apparently unwilling to hold a dagger against someone woman-shaped, she instead held her dagger close to her belly.  Wisely, she backed away as Aziraphale sashayed forward.  “I’ll make no dealings with _you_ , no matter how you look.  I have all I need.”  She glared at Raphael.

“He won’t give you what you need,” the demon near sang.  “But I can.”

“I will make no deals with you!”

“Even if I make it so that no man will ever touch you again?”

The maiden paused.

“You see,” Aziraphale began.  “I know that you find them all to be horrid, violent creatures.  You would rather find pleasure with other women, wouldn’t you?”  Aziraphale massaged her own heavy bosom obscenely and Raphael was leaning hard against the barrier separating them without even thinking about it.  “And never have to worry about that old fool your father married you off to ever again.  He does make a terrible lover, doesn’t he?  So inconsiderate and selfish.”

“I hate him,” said the maiden.  “I despise him so.” 

Raphael felt pity for the girl, and she really was barely more than a child. 

“I will make you undesirable to men and enchanting to women,” Aziraphale promised.  Her owl eyes were focused on her as she stepped slowly, so ever slowly, closer.  “Men will see an ancient hag when they look at you.  Because men cannot stand horridness, they will pretend to not see you at all.  Women will see you for the beauty you are and they will see that their husbands and fathers pay you no mind.  They will invite you into their private baths and their beds, virginal or marital, and no one will be the wiser.  Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

“I would be destitute,” said the clever maiden.  “Horrid crones live penniless in the woods.”

“Not if your husband has an unfortunate accident and you happen to disappear with a portion of his wealth.  Just a small portion.  Enough to keep you happy till the end of your days and not enough that you will be hunted.”

She bit her lip.  “Will _you_ kill him?”

“No, no…  You will.  But I will help you take his gold and silver.  I won’t even keep a piece for myself.” 

Raphael, watching in silence, did not know how to feel.  He could not condone murder and theft and the sins of Lust and Greed, and yet…

All this woman wanted was freedom.  Her freedom just had an exorbitant price.

“I will have all of this…  If I let the other demon go?”  She was suspicious. 

“I consider him very dear to me,” Aziraphale hummed.  She turned and gazed adoringly at Raphael with wide, unblinking eyes.  “You prefer womanly wiles and I prefer his wiles.  As simple as that.”

“How do I know that you’ll be true to your word?”

Aziraphale turned back to her and not a moment too soon.  Raphael felt that something hot had twisted in the pit of his human belly and it made him uncomfortable. 

“Shake on it, my fair maiden?”  Aziraphale extended a hand and a smile.

The woman shook on it.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” Raphael said later the next day.  His squire was a distance away and had no memory of the binding circle. 

“Thinking that I did it for you would make me look kind,” Aziraphale pointed out.  “And I am not kind, darling.  No…  I have secured another soul for my Master.”

“You saved her, temper.  You saved her from a life of misery and rape.” 

“Watch your language, angel,” Aziraphale crooned.  “Unless, you want the forces of Hell to hear you?  Is that it?  You _want_ me to be punished?”

Raphael shut his mouth.  This was a mistake as it immediately caught Aziraphale’s attention and the demon twisted his head to stare at the archangel.

“You _don’t_ want me to be punished.”  His eyes did that Damnable thing where they twinkled and shined so innocently of adoration.

Raphael hated that trick most of all.

“Probably best that we just not talk about it at all,” Raphael pointed out.  “How’d you find me anyway?”

“I wasn’t looking for you,” Aziraphale lied.  “However, now that I have you…  What brings you to these damp parts?  And would you be interested in another round of ‘What they don’t know won’t hurt them’?  I assure you, you’ll like this one.” 

~::~

It was 1601 and Aziraphale had sent a messenger to him saying to go to the Globe Theatre where Shakespeare was playing.

Raphael was surprised to find the stadium near empty and the demon happily absorbed in the play.  It wasn’t even one of the funny ones that Raphael preferred.

“What are we doing here, tempter?”  He circled the demon.

“Recall our Arrangement?”

Raphael quickly hushed him.  Anyone could be listening.

Aziraphale patted his cheek.  “Oh, darling, don’t worry.  No one’s listening.”  He looked more than bit put out when he explained, “No one likes _Hamlet_.  No one in Hell, anyway.  I’ve always thought that Shakespeare should be more respected.  A brilliant visionary.” 

“Easily tempted as well?”

“Yes, that too.”  The comment was offhanded, though.

“You… really do come here because you enjoy the plays.” 

“I am allowed to enjoy myself, my dear boy.  I’m a demon, hedonism is celebrated.” 

Raphael tried to understand the demon.  There was nothing diabolical or evil about the pleasure on Aziraphale’s face as he appreciated the actor and his dialogue.  Raphael tried to discern if Aziraphale meant to seduce the young man on stage, but it truly appeared that the demon was… just enjoying himself.

Delighting in human imagination and literature. 

“Do you like books, tempter?”

“Hm?  Oh, yes.”  Aziraphale sighed a longing sigh.  “I’ve begun a collection, as it were.  I only have a few now, but I find that I have more and more time to read as humans develop and create their own trouble.  Have you heard of Tyron’s Rebellion over in Ireland?”

“I have.”

“I sent a memo downstairs saying that I caused it.  Would you like to know a little secret?”

“Let me guess,” Raphael drawled.  “You didn’t cause it.”

“Right you are!”  Aziraphale wiggled in place.  Raphael pondered if this was a demon characteristic or an owl characteristic that the demon had adopted.  He popped a grape in his mouth and some of his joy melted away, replaced by melancholy.  “Over a hundred thousand lives will be lost before the end of that war and all of it is because of humans.  Do you find that a bit sad?”

“A bit,” he admitted.  “But, then again, literature is all because of humans too.”  Aziraphale turned to give him a questioning look.  “They’re the ones who thought of creating their own stories.  Along the way, they figured they should act them out.  Now we’re standing in the Globe Theatre and William Shakespeare himself is coming this way to talk to us.”

Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled and Raphael made himself look elsewhere.

It was a relief when Shakespeare shambled off and the play continued. 

“What did you want anyway?” Raphael asked.

“Downstairs wants me to go to Edinburgh and do some tempting.”

“Funny.  I also have to be in Edinburgh to perform some miracles and give a blessing.”

“Wouldn’t it be terrible for us both to have to travel to Scotland?  And by horse, nonetheless.”

“They’re not easy on the buttocks, I’ll admit.”  He sighed.  “You want only one of us to go and do both, don’t you?”

Aziraphale winked at him.  “Flip you for it?”

~::~

It was 1793 and Raphael was in Paris, trying to spread peace and tranquility during the Reign of Terror. 

That was, until he heard rumor of a fair-haired English aristocrat being held prisoner. 

 _‘Can’t be’_ , he thought.  On a hunch, he went anyway.  ‘ _Can be’_ , he realized, and he was only partially surprised.

There was Aziraphale, that tempting demon, and he was smiling coyly at his would-be executioner.  There was a stool in his cell and long chains connected him to the wall. 

“We don’t have to do this,” Aziraphale said.  He turned his head to keep the executioner in sight. 

He turned his head too far and the large Frenchman squealed in terror as the demon could now comfortably rest his chin between his own shoulderblades. 

Raphael stopped time.

The demon’s head snapped toward him and his eyes went wide and twinkly with joy.  “My dear boy!”

“What are you doing here, tempter?”  He gestured out the barred window.  “Is this your doing?”

“Oh, _please_.”  Aziraphale wiggled uncomfortably.  “I wasn’t even in France until this morning.”

Raphael thought back to the last message he had received from the demon.  “That’s right.  Aren’t you opening a bookshop in London?”

“I am.  I got peckish.”

“ _Peckish_?”

“France is the only good place to get crepes, I’ve told you that.” 

“So you thought you’d just hop across the channel for something to nibble on during great civil unrest?”

Aziraphale carefully looked somewhere else.  “I didn’t know it was this bad.”

Raphael stopped.  It felt wrong to hear from a demon of Hell that they were taken by surprise by death and revolution.  At a loss of words himself, he snapped his fingers and freed the demon.  “Why didn’t you just blasphemy yourself out of here?”

“I was about to,” Aziraphale announced pompously.

“Why let yourself get captured at all?”

“To figure out what was going on, obviously.”  Aziraphale looked down at his own attire and then at his almost executioner.  He scowled.  “I suppose I will have to lower my standards.”  With a snap of his fingers, he and the Frenchman exchanged outfits. 

“You’re going to send him to his death in your place?” Raphael asked.

“Oh, but my darling, didn’t you hear?  I was to be the 999th aristocrat he killed.  Quite frankly, I believe he might be stretching the truth a tad bit.”

“He will be executed and there will still be other executioners.”

“But there will be one less.”  Aziraphale folded his hands over his belly.  “Another soul for my Master, of course.”

“Of course,” Raphael agreed and came to stand by the demon’s side.  “I didn’t think anything differently.” 

He resumed time and hid them from sight as guards came in and retrieved the stunned and frightened Frenchman.

He felt pity for the human but had endured too much already over millennia to pity his life above others.  “Now what?” Raphael asked.

Aziraphale smiled at him – not coyly or with false guile, but with true excitement and actual hope.  “How would you feel about some crepes?” 

~::~

It was 1813 and Raphael was strolling casually through London on his way to see the demon’s bookstore for himself.  It felt odd to seek Aziraphale out himself and yet, he missed the puckish bird.  He was lonely without the tempter who looked at him so coyly.  Who seduced him with pink lips and adoring gazes.

Despicable, unholy creature – truly. 

As he meandered and tried to find a reason not to make it to his destination, he instead came upon a bookshop.  Not Aziraphale’s, but someone else’s.  There was a book in the window titled _Pride & Prejudice_, author anonymous.

Raphael paused and considered it.  It was almost ironic.  The forces of Heaven and Hell were both prideful and heavily prejudiced.  On a whim, he entered the shop and picked up a copy.

 _It is a truth universally acknowledged,_ he read of the first chapter _, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife._

 _‘Well,’_ Raphael thought.  _‘This is utter bollocks.’_   Nonetheless, recalling Aziraphale’s innocent pleasure in literature, he purchased it. 

It was only as he stepped into Aziraphale’s bookstore that he considered the demon to already be in possession of _Pride & Prejudice_.

“My darling!” Aziraphale chirped.  He cocked his head at the package in Raphael’s hands.  “And what is that?  Have you brought me a present?  I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s alright,” Raphael said.  “You probably won’t like this anyway.”  With little fanfare, he held the package out to the demon.

Aziraphale descended upon him with reverence, as if he already knew of what was hidden within the brown paper.  It would be hard not to know, of course, as they were standing in a bookshop and the package was book-shaped.

With care that Raphael had not known demons were capable of, Aziraphale untied the twine and unfolded the paper. 

The demon stared at the book for long, uncomfortable minutes.

“Yeah, it’s rubbish, I know.”  Raphael cleared his throat.  “I just thought – you know.  A book.  Seemed like a good idea.  I’ll take it away if it offends.”

“Don’t you dare,” Aziraphale breathed.  He squeezed the book to his chest as if he feared Raphael would rip it from him.  “I – I’ve wanted this book, actually.  I – well.  Should I say thank you?”

“Probably not,” Raphael admitted.  “I looked at the first chapter and it doesn’t seem that good.”

There was amusement dancing in the demon’s eyes.  “You don’t like books, do you?”

“I don’t read much, no.  There are other things I could be doing.”

“You can do me.”

Raphael near swallowed his tongue. 

And, _bless it all_ , the demon did The Look and his eyes twinkled with adoration and he was so _shy_ and bloody _coy_ and his lips were so temptingly _pink_ –

“You will _stop_ that at once,” he hissed, teeth bared.  “I refuse to sully the holy sanctity of my being with a foul _demon_!”  He spat the last word and it all at once sounded like ‘diseased’ and ‘worthy of contempt’ and ‘unlovable’.  In all honesty, he didn’t even mean it.  He was angry at himself for wanting the demon.

He sucked in a deep breath and prepared himself for the taunting.  He waited for the teasing smiles and the cooing.

Aziraphale stared at him with wide eyes and downturned lips.  “Of course, archangel Raphael,” the demon capitulated.  “If that is how you feel.”  He walked around Raphael and opened the door.  “It would be horrid of me to take up any more of your time.  Please leave.”

“Aziraphale –” When he realized he was about to apologize to a demon, he stopped himself.  He tipped his hat and left without another word.

~::~

It was 1941 and he had not seen Aziraphale in over a century.  Not since the bookshop incident.  Raphael had been too proud to seek out the demon and the demon, for whatever reason, never sought him out.

It was by random design that Raphael saw Aziraphale in 1941.

 They were in London and World War II was tearing nations apart and Raphael had just followed the wily demon to a cemetery.

“You bastard, don’t you dare,” he muttered to himself from his hiding place.  Aziraphale was handing off a stack of books concerning prophecies to none other than Nazis.  “You unforgivable nuisance,” Raphael hissed.

Aziraphale made a gesture that Raphael interpreted – he was not close enough to hear – to mean that Aziraphale was expecting them to hold up their part of the bargain.  More than likely from demonic intervention than from a sense of honor, they produced whatever it was they had promised in payment.

Raphael prepared himself to fly in and stop the whole thing.

He didn’t have to.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and time paused.  A young woman holding up a pistol froze in the midst of approaching from behind a mausoleum. 

“I know you’re there,” said Aziraphale.  His voice was soft and yet Raphael heard it clearly. 

The archangel flapped his wings and was there by the demon’s side.  “Don’t be a fool, tempter.  Don’t give them the books.”

“I never planned to.”

“You – what?”

Aziraphale picked up the books by its rope handle and carried the metal thermos the Nazis had given him in the other arm.

“I would never willingly give away books.”

“You run a bookshop.”

“Really, it’s more a place to store my literature.”  Aziraphale had yet to look at him once.

“So what was the whole point of this charade, then?” Raphael asked.

“I needed something and I needed someone else to get it for me.”  He turned his head and body to point at the woman.  “This young woman recruited me under the guise of being British Intelligence so that I could draw these two gentlemen out into the open where they could be apprehended and tried by the Law.”

“So she’s good,” Raphael surmised.

“She is good at being very bad.  She is also a Nazi and her plan was to kill me as soon as I handed over the books.”

“You don’t seem very concerned by all this.”

“Not particularly.  You, however, _do_ seem concerned.  Did you worry that the foul demon was going to deliver books of prophecy to Adolf Hitler?  Better yet, do you believe that I caused this war?”

Raphael withered on the inside.  “Listen, Aziraphale –”

“No,” Aziraphale said, and snapped his fingers.

He was gone and Raphael was left in the middle of a group of upset Nazis.  “Bless it all,” he cursed.  He quickly took off into the sky before anyone could begin shooting.

~::~

It was obvious that Aziraphale was upset with him. 

In 1967, a little more than twenty years after World War II, Raphael finally dared to seek the demon out.  Out of a lack of other options, he started at Aziraphale’s bookshop.

A little bell rang above him as he entered.  The first edition copy of _Pride & Prejudice_ he had given Aziraphale was set in a glass display immediately to his right. 

“We’re closed,” drifted a voice from the back of the shop, but Raphael hardly noticed. 

He felt that the pieces of a very confusing puzzle he had not even realized he was putting together had just slotted into place.

“I _said_ we’re closed,” repeated Aziraphale as he appeared between bookshelves.  He saw Raphael and fixed him in sight like any owl would once catching sight of dinner.  It was not welcoming at all so much as predatory and threatening. 

Raphael touched the display case with only his fingertips.  “I gave this to you.”

“Regardless of how I feel for you, Jane Austen was a marvelous author.”

“And how do you feel for me?”

“Contempt, mostly,” Aziraphale lied.

“You love me, don’t you?”

The demon screeched.  “How dare you slander me in my own shop!”

“You do, tempter!  You love me.”

“Get out!”

“I thought you’ve just been trying to tempt me this whole time.”

“What difference does it make?” Aziraphale snapped.  “I’m a demon.  A foul fiend.  Your hereditary enemy, the _adversary_.  You would never dare taint the holy sanctity of your being by laying with me.”

“You’re not trying to tempt me at all.”  

“I am!  I most certainly am.  Remember, I am your most unbeloved tempter.” 

“Aziraphale,” Raphael whispered.  “Are you capable of making love?”

The demon sobbed.  It was a painful breaking sound that started somewhere in Aziraphale’s chest and erupted as razor-sharp guffaws that cut into the archangel.

“And I thought that _I_ was meant to be cruel.  Oh, but what a fool I am.”

“You aren’t, are you?  You’re a demon.  All you are capable of is temptation and Lust.”  Raphael regretted every word as he said them, but they needed to be said.  A line had to be drawn in the sand.  What he felt for the demon was unholy and sinful, bound to only cause him trouble and despair. 

“That isn’t true,” the demon whispered. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“Would I lie to you?”

“You are a demon,” Raphael pointed out.  “That’s what you do.”

“I am a demon,” Aziraphale agreed.  “Get the Hell out.”

Raphael got the Hell out and felt that every step of the way was lined with regret.  It had to be done, he told himself.  Angels and demons, together?  They’d probably explode.  Raphael would Fall and Aziraphale would be destroyed. 

This was for the best, honestly.

~::~

“Aziraphale!”  Raphael stormed into the bookshop and straight into the backroom.  “When were you planning on telling me that the Anti-Christ was here on Earth and _you_ were the one assigned to deliver it?”

Aziraphale sat at his desk reading.  “I did not technically deliver him.  That duty fell to some unfortunate other in Hell, I’m certain.”

“You _know_ what I mean, tempter.  When were you going to tell me?”

“I wasn’t, actually,” he admitted.  “I worried that you wouldn’t approve of my plan to raise him myself.”

“ _What_?”

“Yes.”  Aziraphale used his finger as a bookmark as he flipped the book over and showed Raphael the cover: _What to Expect the First Year_.  “I don’t know about you, but I am not quite ready for Armageddon.  I didn’t want to fight in the first Revolution, why in Hell would I want another one?”

“Is it here, then?”

“Is what here?”

“The Anti-Christ!”

“He,” Aziraphale answered evenly, “is a boy.  I think I might name him Oscar.”

“No, no, no!”

“Adam, then.  You can’t go wrong with a nice, traditional name.  If all goes wrong, he may be the last man left on Earth, so that would be fitting.” 

“Aziraphale.”  He wanted to grab the demon by his shoulders and shake him.  He just barely refrained and hissed instead.  “Is the Anti-Christ here?”

“His name is Adam, if you please.”

“Where.  Is.  _Adam_?”

“At our new home.  There was a lovely couple at the monastery while I was there and the husband, Arthur Young he said his name was, told me of the village they were from.  It seemed very picturesque – the perfect place to raise a child.”

“What were you doing at a monastery?  I thought you kept the Anti-Christ.”

“Adam.”

“What _ever_ , tempter.” 

“Not _whatever_.  Adam is just a baby boy.” 

Raphael quieted.  “He’s the key to starting the apocalypse.”

“Only if I raise him wrong.”

“Ah.  Well, then.  If that’s all.”

“I’ve been reading,” Aziraphale chirped.  “I am fairly sure I can handle this.” 

“The only way we’re avoiding Armageddon now is if you kill the boy.”

Aziraphale glared at him.  “It won’t come to that.”

Raphael took a deep breath – not out of a necessity for oxygen, but to calm himself down.  “Where is Adam?”

“Officially, he is with the American ambassador Thaddeus Dowling and his wife Harriet.  As far as the Order of the Chattering Nuns is concerned, Adam replaced the Dowlings’ biological son, who also happened to be, regretfully, a stillborn.”

Raphael tried to follow along in his head.  “So the Dowlings had a stillborn and that stillborn was supposed to be switched with Adam?”

“No.  The Dowlings had a healthy baby boy.  I paused time, switched their boy with a stillborn I had found in the mortuary, and then placed their infant in the basket.  I then delivered that basket to the nuns.”

“You replaced the Dowlings’ child… with their own child.”

“Clever, isn’t it?”

It was, actually.  Raphael was impressed. 

“But now you have Adam.”

“I do.”

“Isn’t Hell going to remark on you raising a boy at this particular time?”

Aziraphale shifted excitedly in his seat.  “I planned for that as well.  You see, Hastur will soon set fire to the monastery to wipe out all evidence of tonight’s events.  When he does so, he will also destroy all evidence that the original Dowling child was presumed to be a stillborn.  Therefore, it can be assumed that, in the process of switching babies, there became a superfluous infant.”

“You’re going to tell Hell that out of the evil of your heart, you chose to raise the extra baby?”

“We don’t have hearts.”

“Your human body does.”

Aziraphale waved the comment away.  “It doesn’t matter _why_ I have the superfluous child.  All that matters is that everyone believes that the Dowlings have the Anti-Christ and that my Adam is a perfectly normal human boy.” 

“You’re mad, you are.”

Aziraphale looked at him.  There was no The Look.  No twinkle, no coy, no shy, no adoration. 

Raphael turned away first.

“I don’t want Armageddon.  I can think of little I want less.”  Aziraphale gestured to a pile of boxes that Raphael had not noticed before.  They may have just come into existence.  “I will be closing down my bookshop.  Ostensibly, it is because I will be preparing myself for war and do not want to busy myself with human business.”

“The truth is that you’ll be raising the Anti-Christ to avoid war.”

“If you truly want the apocalypse,” the demon offered, “report me now.  Go on.  Do it.  Tell the Heavenly Host that the demon Owly has kidnapped Satan’s son and is acting cowardly.”

“No,” the archangel answered instantly.  “I won’t do that.  I can’t do that to you.  Heaven and Hell both would destroy you.”

“And you care?”

He studied Aziraphale.  His white-blonde hair, his pale flesh, his plump form.  Those owl-like golden globes that were his eyes and those pink lips that had caused Raphael so much turmoil.  His tidy, old-fashioned attire and tartan bowtie. 

“Very much,” he admitted, and it was an admission from the deepest, darkest part of him.  “You wily, old tempter.  I care too much.”

Hope flickered in those beautiful eyes. 

“Go,” Raphael said.  “Before I change my mind.”

The hope died quickly.

“Would you care to know where we’ll be?” he asked.

“It’s best I don’t know.”

“I see.”  Aziraphale cleared his throat and blinked.  “Goodbye, archangel Raphael.  I hope you aren’t too terribly lonely.”  He snapped his fingers and he and all his books were gone.  All of his books except one.

 _Pride & Prejudice_ laid on the desk next to Raphael.  Carefully handled for more than a century, it mocked Raphael in all its glory.

~::~

Heaven was overly excited about the End of Days.  They were so excited, in fact, that Raphael was given no orders on how to proceed on Earth until the time came that he would return to Heaven and prepare for battle. 

It was the day after Aziraphale had left and Raphael was so far down the bottle that he was crying without knowing it. 

“I can’t do this,” he realized with the clarity that only came when one was so pissed that reality no longer applied.  “I need –” he burped.  “Demon.  Gotta find him.”  He thought very hard about trying to find Aziraphale.  It took him some time before he realized that he was still flat on the floor of his apartment.  “Sober first,” he decided, and whined as sobriety returned with an awful, fuzzy taste in his mouth.

Without alcohol to support his bad decisions, he almost decided against looking for the demon.  What would he do?  Apologize?  What could he do?

Raise the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness _with_ Aziraphale?  Like, what?  A cozy little family?

“I want that,” he said to himself aloud.  And he desperately did.  He shut his eyes tight against the Universe. 

He was the archangel Raphael.  Did he dare disobey Heaven, go against everything the Heavenly Host had worked toward, and risk his existence at the tiny hands of an infant Anti-Christ just for the love of a wily demon?

He thought of Aziraphale saving humans and beasts from drowning in Mesopotamia. 

He thought of Aziraphale lulling Jesus to sleep so that his conscious suffering would end.

He thought of Aziraphale saving him from a witch who had only ever wanted freedom.

He thought of Aziraphale’s love of literature and theatre. 

He thought of Aziraphale choosing not to give books of prophecy to Hitler.

He thought of Aziraphale, really. 

“Does he even love me anymore?” Raphael asked himself.  It was possible Aziraphale didn’t. 

“You are the archangel Raphael,” he hissed at himself.  “Take a chance for once in your long, miserable existence.”

He wanted Aziraphale.  He had for millennia, if he was honest with himself. 

“Well?”  Raphael cracked his neck.  “You want a demon, you get him.”  That simple.

It was, of course, not going to be at all simple.  For one thing, he had to find Aziraphale.  The next step was apologizing.  Hopefully, the third step would be Aziraphale forgiving him.  Who knew what would happen after that.

“Think, Raphael.”  He paced in his apartment.  Had Aziraphale said anything at all pertaining to his new location?

“Arthur Young!” he yelled.  That was the name of the man who lived in the village that Aziraphale was moving to. 

“Oh, bless,” he realized.  “ _Arthur Young_.”  Arthur Young in Britain was to John Smith in America.  “Doesn’t matter.”  He would find the monastery where the switch had taken place – burned down or not – and then he would just have to find the Arthur Youngs within a certain distance of it.  That would have to work.

“I’m coming, Aziraphale.” 

Hopefully, it wasn’t too late.

~::~

It took some wheedling and cajoling before Gabriel told him where the switch had taken place.  The Head Office had actually stopped the fire from completely demolishing the site as they claimed it to be a historical monument in honor of the beginning of the End of Times.

From there, Raphael hunted through phone books and did door-to-door censuses.  All told, between the grief from Head Office and interviewing several dozen Young residences, it was half a year before he entered Tadfield and smelled the faint scent of evil.

Or, at he had come to think of it, the scent of Aziraphale.  It was smoke and spice and hot iron.  He followed his nose.

The house he found marked distinctly by Aziraphale’s scent was a pleasant, scenic cottage with low hedges and a bench in the front yard.  Aziraphale was sitting on it and bouncing a baby on his lap.

He twisted his head to stare at Raphael.  “Good afternoon, archangel Raphael.  Is there something you need help with?”

Raphael pushed open the gate and stood just inside the property.  “Aziraphale, I’m – I’m sorry.  For everything I said.  I’m so sorry.”

The demon looked at him wearily.  “Are you playing me for a sucker?”

The archangel came to Aziraphale’s side and sank to his knees before him.  The demon’s jaw dropped.  “I was a coward,” Raphael said.  “I feel things for you that I shouldn’t and I took it out on you.”

“Oh, very mature of you.”

“I know, I’m a Holy ponce.”

“And a terrible pottymouth.”

“Not all of us can be proper like you.”  He placed one hand on Aziraphale’s knee and the other on the back of Adam’s head.  The baby frowned at him. 

“Don’t you dare harm him,” Aziraphale begged.  “He’s just a boy.”

“I don’t want to harm him.  I don’t want to harm you.  I want – I want this.  I want to be with you and him.  I want to be a family.”

“ _Please_.”  The demon sneered.

“I do!  And, I know I’ve handled this all wrong and I’ve given you no reason to trust me or care about what I say, but I _do_ want this.  You.  This life.  Aziraphale, I love –”

“ _Don’t_.”

“I love you.”

“Please.”  The word was despair incarnate. 

“I’m a coward and a terrible archangel and I’ve hurt you so much.  I know all this, and I want to make it up to you so that, someday, you’ll forgive me.  Maybe even believe me.  By some wonky chance of insanity, perhaps you’ll want me too.”

Aziraphale was trembling.  “I’m a demon,” he spat.  “My feelings don’t matter.  Who cares if an archangel hurts me?”

“I care.” 

Adam began crying.

“Oh – see what you’ve done?”  Aziraphale shot to his feet and escaped past Raphael.  “Hush, now, my darling boy,” he said to Adam and Raphael _ached_.  “You’re quite alright.  You’re safe and sound.” 

“Aziraphale, please.”

“Please what?”

“Let me stay.  Let me earn your forgiveness?”

“That has to be the strangest thing I have ever heard – a being of the Heavenly Host begging for forgiveness from a demon from Hell’s horde.” 

“I mean it.”

“I don’t care!” Aziraphale lied.  “I don’t even like you.”

“You do,” Raphael retorted.  It struck him as the truth.  “You still love me.  That’s why you’re so afraid to let me in.  I have the power to hurt you in a way no one before me ever has.”

“What have I ever done to you, that you feel the need to be so cruel to me?  I’ve already told you, the Massacre of Innocents was not my fault.”

He didn’t know what else to say.  He would have to use actions to convince the fragile demon.

It was odd to think of a demon as fragile, especially the tempter he had worked alongside of since the beginning of Earth, but that was Aziraphale.  There he stood at the door to his home – Raphael thought it odd that there was a horseshoe there above the entrance and less odd that it looked very stressed and the wood around it very burned – cradling a child and glaring at the archangel with owl eyes.

“Tell me what to do to make you believe me,” Raphael beseeched.  “Give me a chance to prove myself.”

“If I told you to leave and never come back?”

Raphael swallowed thickly.  “I don’t know if I could do that.”

“Then what _can_ you do?”

“Anything but that.”

“If I told you to turn your back on Heaven?”

“I’m already here, aren’t I?  I’m on our side, Aziraphale.  Not Heaven’s, not Hell’s.  It’s us together that matters.”

“If I demanded that you change Adam’s diapers?”

“Are they that bad?”

“Oh, they are _horrid_.  The true stuff of nightmares.  I always knew human babies were messy, but his diapers are _ridiculous_.” 

“Aziraphale,” Raphael said.  “I’d love nothing more than to share the horrors of parenthood with you.” 

Aziraphale stood uncertain. 

“Kiss me.”

Raphael blinked.  “What?”

“So that I may taint the holy sanctity of your celestial being.”

Raphael did not dare hesitate.  He careered into Aziraphale, baby Anti-Christ cocooned safely between them.  He placed his hands on the demon’s soft hips and paused.  His lips were mere centimeters from his adversary’s.  “I’ve never done this before, so don’t judge me.”

“I will judge you on a scale of abysmal to acceptable, which is rather merciful on my part,” the demon told him.  “You must kiss me.  This must be your choice.”

“This _is_ my choice.”  And he kissed him.  It was slow and unsure and awkward at first.  His nose mashed against Aziraphale’s until he turned head and they slotted together perfectly.  Where his own lips were warm and chapped, Aziraphale’s were cool and glossy.  The demon sighed into his mouth and tasted of hot cocoa.  Raphael chased each note of chocolate into Aziraphale’s mouth and found there a playful tongue that danced with his.

This, Raphael decided.  They should have been doing this millennia ago.

It took Adam screeching at them to force them apart. 

Aziraphale was breathing unnecessarily hard.  His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glittered.  “You _do_ want me.” 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale did The Look.

“For Heaven’s sake,” Raphael wheezed, and needed to kiss the demon so badly that he simply swooped in and stole it.

“What was that for?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Because I want to.  I love you.  By all that is Holy, what is that _stench_?”

“Baby diaper.”  Aziraphale smiled, slow and evil.  “Ready to learn how to clean his bum, my dear boy?” 

“No, not really.”

“Neither was I.  If you really want to be a part of this family, you will follow me inside and learn how to take care of Adam with me.  You will love him too.”

Raphael held out his arms.  It was with great and visible reluctance that Aziraphale handed Adam over. 

The archangel had been around enough children, at the least, to know how to properly carry the baby in the crook of his elbow.

“Hello, Adam,” he said.  “My name’s Raphael.  As long as it’s okay with your daddy, I’m going to be living here with you two, making sure you’re both safe and happy and taken care of.”  He swayed into house, rocking Adam back and forth.  Adam sniffled and punched him in the jaw with a tiny fist.  “I deserved that,” Raphael allowed.  “You know, that actually hurt.”

“Good,” Aziraphale cheered.  He touched Raphael’s hand like he didn’t quite believe he was physically there.  “I will show you how to change his diaper and then…  Then I suppose I’ll make some tea.  Better yet, I will grab us a bottle of wine.”  He hurried ahead of them.

“Tempter.”  Aziraphale paused and turned his head.  Only his head.  He could comfortably rest his chin between his shoulder blades if he wanted to.  “Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me.  You haven’t looked inside his diaper yet.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I live and breathe by the theory that Crowley is Raphael and nothing can change that. Also, I believe that Aziraphale would make a better demon than Crowley.


End file.
